


soft fuzzy man

by spacemanrhys



Category: Neighbourly (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Divergent - The Narrator Spends Time With A Person, Dinner, Gen, My boyfriend voices the Narrator I had to write this even if it's just a drabble, fluff with barely any plot, gender neutral reader, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemanrhys/pseuds/spacemanrhys
Summary: The Narrator "invites" you to his "house" for "dinner". It's less disturbing than it sounds.
Relationships: The Narrator/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	soft fuzzy man

You are sitting in a room with The Narrator. You cannot see him, but he has a weighty presence that makes you absolutely certain he is sitting in the chair across from you. Or rather, he would be, if he had a physical form. And, indeed, if there was a chair across from you. A moment ago, you could’ve sworn there was one, but apparently a function of this room is that it changes every few milliseconds. The walls are lavender, then hazel, then beige. You’re at a dining table… or was it a breakfast bar? No, maybe in a bed? The more you try to rationalise it, the dizzier you feel, so you simply accept that you are sitting in a room with The Narrator.

The one thing that remains unchanging is what’s on the table/bar/desk in front of you; he has delicately set the table with a pair of cutlery for each of you, and two plates. In the middle lies… Birds, what is that? An indiscernible cooked piece of meat. It glows purple and there are fuzzy lines moving on it, the kind you see on a television with a bad connection. He smiles at you. Or rather, he speaks, and if he were a person, it would sound like he was smiling.

“Go ahead. Dig in.”

You swallow, your throat audibly clicking, as you politely pick up your knife and fork and lean forward to carve a piece out of it. Slowly, painfully slowly, you watch as your knife cuts through the purple meat to reveal… a glittery pink inside? No, the meat on the inside is still purple, but there’s a glittery pink liquid running through it. Just what did The Narrator serve you? Is it harmful to humans? Has he ever cooked for a human before? You open your mouth to ask when the chair/stool/cardboard box across from you leans back, as if The Narrator is too. 

“It doesn’t bite, you know. I’m nothing if not a gracious host, despite having a less than gracious guest. Go on. Put something on your plate before I lose my patience.”

You swear you catch a glimpse of a sharp toothed smile, with no body to corroborate it. You swallow and stab your fork into the meat, putting it in your mouth and hearing an appreciative hum from The Narrator as he no doubt monitors the disgusting little noises of your chewing. The texture keeps changing, which makes it difficult to chew and swallow, but it does taste like your favourite food.

He truly is nothing if not a gracious host. 

You just hope this dinner is the only thing he’s hosting.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @spacemanrhys but also listen to Neighbourly


End file.
